


Dancing Days

by Bleher89



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Camping, Child Abuse, Hurt Niall, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 00:52:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleher89/pseuds/Bleher89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's because they're boys" Niall tells himself, "It's because they're boys and they're stupid and they want to be men" That's what Niall tells himself as his face is smashed into the wall of the locker room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing Days

**Author's Note:**

> So, originally this was a prompt (that a can't find) that had already been filled by someone (who I also can't find). However, the author said she wasn't very happy with it, so I decided I would give it a try.

The janitor changed the floor polish from lemon scented to mint scented. This is what Niall realizes when his face smashes into the cold confetti tile, having been shoved over by a boy who, judging by his appearance, is probably named something like The Truck or The Bulldozer or Clyde. He wipes the minty residue from his lips and, upon his attempting to pick himself up, has the small of his back promptly stomped on by The Truck. He scowls. When he is finally freed from his prison, Niall raises his head to find his books, only to realize that the place they had once occupied is now filled with nothing but cold air. He continues to raise his eyes until they fall upon his missing supplies, in the arms of two more of his tormentors. Though, he knows these boys.

Zayn and Louis, two boys who took joy in torturing Niall regularly, sat proudly at the end of the hallway, their laughter echoing through the schools many other corridors. As their amusement at the show fades, both turn to each other and dump their victim’s books into a nearby trashcan, shoving them deep into the leftovers from that day’s lunch.

“Good luck getting those out fag!”

Silently, with a grace suitable for a martyr, Niall rises and recovers his belongings from the garbage. Then, with neither word nor expression, he continues onto his next class, ignoring the surplus garbage and jeers being thrown at his back.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Fit in. That was it. That was all he had to do. Just fit right the fuck in. Jesus, how did he manage to fuck up something so simple?

Niall ponders this as he is propelled against the wall of the hockey-rink, for neither the first nor the last time. 

“Nice going bitch!” 

It wasn’t necessary, of course it wasn’t, but none comment on it, certainly not the coach.

The locker room is no better. He barely makes it out the door after his head is slammed into a brick wall. When he looks at it at home, the mark will have already have turned a deep, ugly purple.

It was supposed to be an escape, physical activity, a time to take his mind off his troubles. However, as his luck would have it, the once pleasant hobby had turned into an extension of the hell that was his life. He didn’t quit though, he would never quit. This was _his_ hobby, dammit, and he’d be damned if it was added to the list of things he’d lost the world around him.

He thinks he’s free once he reaches the edge of the parking lot.

He’s wrong. Of course he is.

He’s not two steps off school property when a projectile soda can hits him square in the face, spewing the sugary liquid all over his hair and down the back of his neck.

“You like that freak?” Someone shrieks from the car that turns sharply around the corner, nearly crushing Niall. He recognizes the voice as Zayn’s, and walks home.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

When he makes it home, his journey to his room is abruptly stopped by his father’s fist hitting his skull after he rounds seemingly innocuous corner. His books fall as he shields himself from the blows, his father screaming about Niall being a whore or a fag or a lazy shithead or _something_. 

It’s only by sheer chance that he’s given a window spanning a few seconds to escape his father’s rage. He thanks God for these little pockets of wonder he’s given in the direst of times, though they are few and far between, and locks the bathroom door behind him. He sits down next to the toilet, opens his books, and does his homework, the sound of fists pounding on the door echoing in his ears.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

He’s ashamed to admit it, but he did expect this. He did not, however, expect it to happen so soon, or was it so late?

It had been a _bad day_ , and Niall had been pushed just shy of his limits.

With each class period awaited a test of strength, pride and humanity. Niall would like to say he got out of all them with a passing grade, but there are some things even he can’t lie to himself about. The tension stretched like a tightrope in his chest grew more and more strained as the day wore on, and he was all but _fucking done_ by the time for hockey practice came. 

It was Liam who pushed him into the wall that day. Niall groaned as the taller boy’s shoulder rammed into his ribs like a knife through butter. His abdomen, already a quilt of muddy yellows, greens, and purples, howled its indignation in the form of a fiery bolt of pain shooting up his side.

When Liam sees the stricken look on his face, he backs away from him. He never had been very good at this whole “bully” thing. He looks on at Harry, worried, but calms slightly after his friend merely shrugs, choosing to ignore the wheezing boy next to him.

Coach tells him to sit this one out when he sees Niall barely able to stand even with the help of the wall. He hears Louis and Zayn snicker nearby.

“Fucking pussy” Louis jabs, jutting his jaw out slightly to seem more vicious.

By the time they all retreat back into the locker room, Niall can’t get to the toilet fast enough. After barely closing the door in time, he vomits heavily into the porcelain bowl, continuing to let a fair amount of stomach acid drip lazily into it as well once he finishes.

Maybe it was the still quite present nausea, maybe it was the lightheadedness, or maybe it was just a flat out lack of caring, but that day Niall didn’t shrink behind one of the shower curtains to change. Instead, he stood out in the open like everyone else, and casually removed his uniform. 

Perhaps in another world in which the entirety of all Gods and Goddesses of fate and luck didn’t hate him, it wouldn’t have been a big deal. However, this was his world, so of course it was a big deal. This was his world, so of course Louis would have the locker right next to his, of course he would forget this despite all the torment he had suffered from his not-so-friendly neighbor in that very locker room, of course he wouldn’t have been so lucky as to escape the wrath of his father a few days prior, _of course_.

It isn’t until the collar of his normal shirt brushes past his chin that he sees Louis staring.

Shit.

The look in his eyes is one shock and sadness. His brow is raised and yet furrowed as he looks deep into Niall’s eyes, questioning. Niall’s no idiot, despite what everyone says, he knows Louis must realize that those kinds of bruises don’t come from being knocked around by high school bullies. 

From the corner of his eye, Niall sees Zayn shooting them a curious look, his eyes turning cold when they fall on him. Taking this as his queue, Niall pushes past Louis to get to the exit, painfully aware of the boy’s stillness upon being shoved.

Once he’s far enough from the door to the locker room, he crouches down into a bush and retches for the second time. When he finishes, he stands up parallel to the wall and, without pause, sends his fist careening into the cold, hard brick. The pain shoots like a bullet from his knuckles to his arm, causing him to crouch back beside the bush, clutching his wounded extremity to his chest. When he sees a few speckles of red in his vomit, the tears come without thought. Niall buries his face into his uninjured arm, unable to brave the realization of his own despair.

“Niall?”

He feels his breathing audibly stop.

“Niall are you okay?”

When he looks up, which, in hindsight, was probably a bad idea, he sees none other than Louis and Zayn looking down at him, both sporting the same worried look Louis bore earlier. Not for the first time, Niall’s fight-or-flight instinct kicks and he runs, leaving the cries of “Niall!” and “Just wait, please!” far, far behind him.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

He quits hockey.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The broken hand works well enough as an excuse, judging by the flippant look the school nurse gives him. 

He’s immensely relieved at no longer having to bear the brunt of practice time, but that pales in comparison to the newest development; the bullying has stopped, completely. The day following his incident, marked the first day that Niall walked the halls of the school without being shoved, hit or mocked by one of his peers. Instead, when his eyes happen to fall on any one of his former tormentors, they shrink away from him, as if in fear.

He is entirely, doubtlessly sure that this is Zayn and Louis’s doing. He doesn’t know whether to be thankful or bitter. Ultimately, he chooses the latter.

He hates the looks they all send him now. If he had any ideas that only Zayn and Louis knew his bloody little secret, they were long gone now. He should’ve expected it, really. The four boys are always together, once like a pack of hungry wolves eagerly waiting to pounce on him, now like a group of concerned shepherds eyeing one of their weakest sheep.

Luckily though, eyeing is all they do, that is, until Liam approaches him. It’s entirely predictable, Niall decides, that they send Liam out. The boy’s soulful brown eyes and sugar-sweet voice could melt the iciest of hearts, but even he is no match for Niall’s. 

“I just wanted to say…”

Niall can practically feel him gulp nervously, or maybe he’s just doing it for effect.

“Sorry… on the behalf of all us”

Niall decides to humor him, for fun, and stops.

“Especially Louis and Zayn. They’d apologize themselves, but we all know you probably never want the see them ever again.”

He can hear his apprehensive smile.

“We just… Niall you know we never would have done all that if we’d known”

“So if I didn’t already have bruises it would have been right?” Niall’s voice shockingly calm, belying his inner fury.

“Niall that’s not what –”

“It’s exactly what you meant Liam, and if Louis and Zayn want to talk me so bad, how about you sent this little message on; _fuck you_.”

And with that, he continues down the hall, leaving a crestfallen Liam in his wake.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

When it’s over, Niall roles over and stands up. With grease under his finger nails, he pulls his jeans back up to rest on his narrow hips. He walks out onto the porch and smokes, arms resting on the flimsy fencing. Behind him, his brother opens his palm before the man, blocking the door.

He slaps Niall’s ass before reaching the steps.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

This is not one of his better ideas.

Louis may not be the most modest man in the world, but even he can recognize this.

It had taken forty-five minutes and an amount of flirting with the homely woman at the front desk that he is not proud to find Niall’s address, but by god he did it.

The path to the Irish boy’s home is a long and terrifying. 

‘Should have brought Zayn should have brought Zayn _shouldhavebroughtzaynshouldhavebroughtzayn ohgodwhatwasthat_?’

Needless to say, he’s more than relieved when he makes it to the boy’s home.

This is short lived.

His jaw drops considerably when he takes a moment to truly take in the house for what it is. He stands completely still, which is saying something, in front of the home for minutes, hours, simply in terrible awe, until he hears a scream. It isn’t Niall’s scream, which is a relief. However, the emotion is just as fleeting as it was earlier as Louis sees Niall jump out of a window that must be in a bathroom and tumble clumsily onto the ground. The boy runs off into the nearby woods before Louis can even call out to him, but he follows him nonetheless.

Niall must know he’s being followed as his speed quickens and his turns become sharper and sharper. Louis soon finds himself lagging behind, and as the forest starts to look more and more like a dump site, he realizes this is probably the last place he wants to get lost in. Finally, he taps into that little pocket of energy that coach had told them about and dashes towards the other boy. He soon regrets this as Niall abruptly stops; leaving Louis to continue in front of him, the laws of physics slapping him in the face as he topples over into a pile of what he assumes is mud. Once he stands up- 

He isn’t expecting the right hook to his jaw, he really isn’t. When he looks up from his spot on the damp ground, he is met with a gaze so cold he feels the tips of fingers going numb.

“You scared the shit out of me, you know that?”

“So you _hit me_?”

No reply. Louis raises his hands up in surrender while making his second attempt at standing up.

“Okay, okay, I deserved that.” 

“What do you want Tomlinson?” Niall sneered.

“I want you to forgive me- us, all of us.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because, because fuck Niall, we’re _trying_ here, okay? We know what we did to you was wrong, we’re trying to make things right.”

“You’ve already stopped everyone from picking on me”

“But you still hate us.”

Niall’s eye twitches at this response, and he turns away from the other boy. As ashamed as he is, he feels quite moved by the boys’ concern over him. He bites his lip and stared at his feet.

“Look, we know you have some bad stuff going on at-“

“Fine fine fine, I forgive you. Just- get the fuck out of here okay?”

“So we’re okay?”

“ _Fine_.”

Louis nods and turns around, hopeful that he can find his way. Though, even if these woods do prove to be his end, he can’t say he wasn’t content with the life he’d lived.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“We’re going camping this weekend”, Harry squawks

Niall stops, halfway across the school parking lot.

“Y’know, if you wanna come”

It seemed appropriate before he said it, it honestly had. Why wouldn’t it be; over the last couple of weeks Niall had become their _friend_ ; eating lunch with them (on occasion), walking in the hallway with them (once), and even spending the weekend with them (okay now you’re just making shi-), so why couldn’t he go camping with them? Granted, the boy didn’t say a word during all of those activities, but it was obvious he enjoyed their company. Not that the fact kept all the other boys from looking at him like he’d just stomped on a kitten.

“Okay” Four heads whip around.

“What do I bring?”

When Harry’s response is to stand there and mouth the beginning of what at one point may have been a sentence, Zayn chimes in;

“Uh, don’t worry about it” He bats a hand in Niall’s direction, trying to seem nonchalant, failing.

“You’ll be like, our guest, so we’ll bring everything, ‘kay?”

Niall pauses, but then nods. He looks to the others, and when each of them only stares at him, he walks on home.

“See you tomorrow!” One of them cries out. Niall raises his hand as his answer and message of farewell. A thick silence falls upon the boys. Unsurprisingly, it is broken by Louis.

“Camping.” Louis says, voice laced with casual disbelief.

“We’re going camping?”

“And we’re gonna have a damn good time of it too!” Harry pumps his fist into the air to make his point. A moderate pause follows.

“Alrighty then”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” Louis claps a hand on Harry’s thin shoulder.

“He brought the guitar.” Pause “But he didn’t bring the food…”

Zayn and Liam clap and whistle, shouting things like, “Good show, mate!” and “Never been more proud of you!”

“Well you were stupid for putting me in charge of that in the first place _Zayn_.” The curly-haired boy retorts.

“The idiot has a point” Louis says, raising his eyebrows at the other boys as if he was the most wise and sensible one out of the five.

“Hey!” Harry cries and soon all are playfully shoving at him and laughing. That is, except for Niall.

For the time being, he had been perfectly content to stand beside and look upon the somewhat strangely intimate relationship between the four boys with nothing more than a quiet smile or a small laugh. No one commented on it of course, nor did anyone try and include him. It was something of an unwritten law that Niall was not to be touched. Nor was he to be teased, pressured, or pulled out of his comfort zone.

“It’s okay; I brought food” Niall says quietly after several seconds of mustering up the courage to do so.

“Niall you beautiful, beautiful boy!” Louis bellows as they all clamor around the Irish boy, each somehow marveling at the cans of foodstuffs in his backpack.

After what seems like several hours of tent pitching, fire starting, and “for fuck’s sake Louis put your trousers back on!”, they all settle around their weak flame in the middle of the campsite.

Zayn palms Harry’s acoustic guitar, idly toying with the instrument’s cords and smooth curves.

“Honestly Harry, do even know how to play guitar?” He questions, eyebrows raised high and crooked as he eyes his friend from across their little circle.

“Now that, Zayn, is what we call a loaded question.” Harry states matter-of-factly.

Zayn rolls his eyes and opts to end this conversation before he becomes even more aggravated, and pushes the guitar onto Louis. When he soon grows bored of it, he passes it on to Niall.

“Be a dear and hold this for me, Niall” He chirps before bravely jumping over the flame and into Harry’s lap.

When their conversation drifts from the latest physics project to the performance of various young women in bed, Niall turns to absentmindedly tuning the neglected instrument.

“Who taught you?” Liam asks softly, head slightly tilted.

“My brother”, Niall replies, his brow furrowing unconsciously at the word.

Liam seems to pick up on this, choosing not to question the other boy further.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Because we are men, Liam, and men fish!” Louis shouts. This exclamation is followed by several unimpressive flexing poses from him and Harry.

“Alright, _men_ , go and catch us some breakfast.” Liam concedes, his smile full of amusement. 

“Yes, and worry not fair damsels, for we shall return before long!” And the two are off.

Zayn rolls his eyes and smiles when they fall on Niall. Harry and Louis had invited him to join them, but he had declined, not wanting to be the third wheel to… whatever they were. He shook his head, it didn’t matter what they had; they were the happiest two people he’d ever seen. Besides, he preferred the quiet sense of serenity Liam and Zayn seemed to emanate when they were together. 

“So”’ Zayn takes a sip from his soda can (those had been Liam’s responsibility), “you play guitar?”

Liam shoots him a warning look, but Niall nods him off, answering calmly,

“Yeah, a bit”

“Wow, that’s not an easy thing to learn, or, so I’ve heard” 

Niall shrugs, “Just practice a bit everyday”

“Hm, I’d probably have trouble fitting something like that into schedule; I swear it’s like I’m busy all the time now.” He looks up at the clouds.

Liam can sense the conversation making a turn towards unexplored territory, and looks at Niall, who promptly nods his worry away once again.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve never had that problem.”

Liam’s eyes look as if he’s monitoring a particularly riveting tennis match, carefully analyzing everything either boy says, ready to step in and end it at any point with a clever change of subject.

“I mean, it’s not like it’s all bad; I liking doing stuff like choir and hockey, keeps me occupied”

“That’s kind of what playing guitar is for me, well, I guess it’s more a distraction.”

Zayn looks back at Niall, who turns his gaze to him as well. The two share a quiet moment of understanding while Liam nearly faints on the sidelines. Lucky for Liam’s consciousness, the trio soon hears the familiar bickering of Harry and Louis.

“Trouble in paradise?” Niall mutters, cocking an eyebrow at Zayn.

“Aw, c’mon lads, what is it this time?” Liam inquires, still looking a bit disheveled as the pair enters the campsite. 

“Harry’s upset that I won’t cuddle with him after we make love” Louis complains, nose high in the air. Harry blushes deeply then pounces onto his friend’s back, seeking vengeance.

“Oh well that’s hardly fair Louis; we all know you’re an exceptional cuddler, why would you deprive Harry of something like that?” Zayn gripes, more than a little bitter about him and Niall’s conversation being so rudely interrupted. 

“Um, and where might our breakfast be, brave knights?” Liam snips, making a confused motion with his hands.

“I am merely a man, Liam, not a knight. I’ve had it with you and your high expectations for me, I’m done!” Louis proclaims, dramatically falling to the ground in defeat as Harry topples him over a second time. His despair is fleeting though, as his companion begins tickling his sides with obvious glee. Niall looks on with the same baffled and embarrassed look he always does when witnessing scenes such as this. Zayn smiles and moves to pat him on the back, only remembering their little rule as Niall flinches away from him. Luckily, Louis and Harry are far too enthralled in each other to notice, but Liam does and grabs Zayn’s arm faster than he can mumble “C’mon Zayn I need help with that I told you about earlier remember!”.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

When he gets home, he expects to be in trouble. Typical trouble, that is. Y’know, a kick to the stomach, maybe a couple stitches here and there, the works. He isn’t expecting to be full-on thrown across a room. He isn’t expecting his father and his brother to gang up on him (I mean, they haven’t done that since, what, middle school?).He’d like to say he isn’t expecting his father to reach for his zipper after his brother growls something about not earning his keep. 

He decides it’s in his best interest not to scream this time.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The boys notice his limp the next day at school. Of course they do. Zayn walks him to his classes, Liam goes full mother hen on him during lunch; checking his temperature, giving him his jacket, he’d probably have tried to chew the boy’s food if given the chance, and Louis and Harry make it their mission to have him laugh before the day comes to an end. Or, rather they tried until Liam sent them a look so vicious the two actually bowed their backs away from their injured friend. After exercising his authority, Liam leans in close to him and suggests Niall sleep at his house that night. He declines; of course he does, and looks away, unable to bear the no doubt distraught look in those big brown eyes.

He thinks he’ll make it through the day, at least, while the sun is out. He spends the later classes of the day thinking of different places he could potentially spend the night.

“ _The bridge along Solomon looks clean enough_.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Maybe she’s a nice girl, really. Or maybe she’s a stupid ugly whore like Niall thinks she is the moment her textbooks stab into his stomach.

Niall had never understood people when they said a pain was “white” and “hot”. He understands now as his knees buckle and he falls, face nearly touching the floor as he paints his palms red with his coughs.

“ _Back to lemon are we? Good, I never liked the mint_ ”

He barely feels Zayn’s iron grip on his shoulders as he is turned over, the skin covering his extremities having turned into a sheet of cotton balls. He does, however, get to see the frantic look in his eyes and watch as Liam sprints down the hallway like a racehorse before all of it fades to black.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

Even after spending as much time as he has in the local free clinic, this is the first time Niall actually wakes up in a hospital room. His eyelids are heavy at first but soon become more movable, along with the rest of his body. He swears inwardly as he scans the room and finds four sleeping bodies surrounding his bed. Or, three sleeping bodies and a half-asleep mother hen.

“Hey” Liam whispers as he leans over the bed, cautiously placing his hand on Niall’s. Niall looks deeply into those concerned brown eyes as Liam paraphrases all that happened and all that is going to happen, then shakes his head when the boy admonishes himself for not waiting until Niall was more than semi-conscious to explain. The other boys wake up soon after and are quick to huddle around him, awkwardly trying to comfort without touching. Niall smiles and pretends to fall asleep. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  
The therapist says he has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Great; sixteen years old and more fucked up than a war vet. He learns one night when Liam tries to open him up that the doctor who examined him said it was the worst case of child abuse he’d ever seen. He has to give credit to Liam for having the best response to “it wasn’t that bad” on the planet.

He feels strange living in Liam’s house along with his sisters and his big brown-eyed parents. The therapist says it’s because he’s “unaccustomed” to “normalcy” and “healthy family dynamics”. He isn’t sure about the therapist’s seven-syllable words or door stopper books or the meds he’s put him on or the big brown eyes of Liam’s parents always looking on at him with concern and pity, or really anything these days. 

One thing he is sure of, however, is that two to three times a week he’s spends about half an hour or so crying in Liam’s arms. It’s weird; he can’t remember the last time he cried apart from that time after the locker room incident. Niall’s pretty sure his therapist gave him some kind of lengthy and logical explanation for it, something about pushing your emotions pack until all of your coping mechanisms fail, he doesn’t really remember. It’s not something he thinks about, really, at least not when it’s happening. When it happens he’s perfectly content to bury his face in Liam or Zayn’s shoulder while he shivers and shakes after a nightmare or a ‘trigger’ as his therapist calls it. Zayn spends about half the week at Liam’s house with them. He doesn’t try to come up with an excuse for it, just tells Niall he wants “be there for him if he needs him”, which he finds noble in an odd way. He’s glad for it too, because, as nurturing as Liam may be, he doesn’t have the strength Zayn has.

Zayn’s a protector, Niall tells his therapist, an alpha male. In the highly unlikely event that his father or brother leapt in through the window, Niall is certain that Zayn would guard him without thinking. He knows this by the way Zayn talks to him, by the way he holds him; hand cradling his head while he cages his torso between his spread legs, Niall’s ear pressed tight against his chest so he can hear his heartbeat.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It’s during their second camping trip, when they should all be in their sleeping bags, that they all officially apologize to Niall and give their reasons for treating them the way they did.

Louis and Harry have recently come out of the closet as a couple, and explain that their frustration over the secrecy of their relationship led them to take out their anger on Niall. He forgives them, partly because he can tell the apology is just a genuine as their feelings for each, and partly because a small part of him believes their coming out was a means to draw attention away from him in the wake of his stay in the hospital and the arrest of his family members. If he ever finds that that small part of him was right, he’ll have to apologize to the two for ever seeing them as less close to him than Liam or Zayn.

Liam blames his tendency to fall victim to peer pressure. Niall believes this wholeheartedly, he could see the guilt in his eyes when he’d smashed him into that wall. Liam wasn’t made to hurt anyone. He feels this even stronger after spending so many nights locked in the boy’s embrace.

It’s Zayn who gives no reason, who says he has no excuse. They all nod in understanding, truly believing the depths of his shame over his treatment of the Irish boy. But Niall knows the reasons behind his actions, even if Zayn himself doesn’t understand them. It’s like he told his shrink, Zayn’s an alpha male; it’s in his nature to be aggressive and want to pull himself to the top of the social hierarchy, regardless of the means used to do so. Niall frowns, picturing the boy’s inner struggle over the past few months, because he has been changing; his eyes have become softer, he’s stopped having so many fights for dominance with Louis, and no longer fights tooth and nail for the last word in every argument. 

He’s seen what happens if his behavior goes unchecked, and wants to keep himself from hurting someone like he hurt Niall. He confesses this to Niall when the boy creeps into his tent later that night and asks him if he’s alright. 

He knows it’s too soon, he knows there’s a possibility that it’s unwanted, but that night Niall leans forward and presses his lips to Zayn’s and feels the warmth of his body and the fireworks going off in his head. When he pulls back, Zayn’s hand is combing through his hair and he feels weightless.

“I” he swallows loudly “I’m gonna head back to mine and Liam’s tent”

“Okay” Zayn rasps, a little too quickly, and nods

“See you tomorrow?” Niall whispers, unsure for some reason

“Yeah… ‘night” he smiles and waves goodbye when Niall moves up and out of the plastic casing. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It’s not something he talks about, well, except when he’s talking to his therapist or Zayn. Other than that, it’s as if nothing happened. 

Everyone at school is still preoccupied with the recently coming out of two of the most popular students. Most of the reception is positive, some of it, not so positive. 

The mere thought of being subject to hundreds of people’s scrutiny gives Niall goose bumps. Luckily, he and Zayn are so far from that point that even thinking about it serves no purpose. Besides, both parties as well as his therapist agree that is indeed far too soon to begin a relationship. Niall is somewhat grateful for this, because, as his shrink has told him, the “healing process” is still a long ways from over, and Niall can feel it. He can feel the residue pain from years’ worth of beatings and rape deep in his bones. He isn’t sure if it will ever truly fade away completely, but is optimistic about his progress and, for the first time, can honestly say that he looks forward to tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I know its supposed to be "arse" not "ass", but I'm an American as well as a member of the party that prefers "ass". We're like that weird club in high school who the yearbook people don't even try to get a picture of.
> 
> Anyway, this is the first thing I've written in a while and the very first thing I've ever posted for anyone else to see, so comments and criticism are welcome.


End file.
